Douglas removed the edge of the curtain from Courtney's fist so that it could fall back into place. "Did you say that only got started five minutes ago?"

"Yes!"

"That's amazing," he said happily.

"He has women all over the place. I don't see why he has to try to seduce Sloan!"

"I don't think I'd call that seduction."

She was so angry she stamped her foot. "What would you call it?"

"Spontaneous combustion," he said with a smile in his voice; then he turned on the television set and took a deck of cards from the cabinet below it. "I'm in the mood for a late movie and one of our gin rummy tournaments."

"I'm going to bed," she said, starting toward her bedroom, where he knew she could continue spying on Noah.

"You're staying right here, my dear."

"But I'm—"

"You're planning to spy on your brother," Douglas said mildly; "however, that would not only be impolite, it would also be a waste of time, because you've already seen all there is to see. Nothing else is going to happen out there tonight; you may take my word for it." He sat down in a chair and began dealing out the first hand of cards.

"What makes you so sure?" she demanded, flopping into the chair across from him with a mutinous expression on her face.

"I'm sure because I know your brother. Noah isn't stupid enough, or rude enough, to ravish any woman on a lawn chair in his backyard."

She hesitated, considering that; then she shrugged as if dismissing the entire subject. The silent gesture was the closest she would come to admitting he might be right. She picked up the hand he'd dealt her and glanced at her cards. "You still owe me a hundred forty-five dollars from last time," she reminded him. "If you don't pay up tonight, I'm going to have to charge you interest."

"At what rate?" Douglas inquired, arranging his cards in his hand.

"Eighteen percent on anything more than thirty days past due. I have to start thinking about my own future."

"You won't have a future if you try to charge me eighteen percent."

She won fifteen dollars more from him, and they both fell asleep watching the late, late movie.

"It's very late," Sloan whispered when Noah finally lifted his mouth from hers. "I have to go back."

"I know." Noah eased his arm out from under her, glanced at his watch, and was amazed to see it was after three A.M. He got up and offered her his hand to help her off the chaise lounge.

As she stood, Sloan looked down at her bare feet and hopelessly wrinkled dress and quickly raised her hands to her hair, trying to restore it to some semblance of order. She was suddenly mortified about her appearance and self-conscious about what they'd been doing for the last two hours. If anyone saw her sneaking into the house like this, she was going to feel like the Whore of Babylon. Worse, she probably looked like that to Noah right now.

She looked delightfully mussed, Noah thought—a fully dressed woman who'd lain beside a man who couldn't keep his hands off of her, who'd shoved his hands into her hair and kissed her until her lips were swollen. He couldn't believe he'd just spent two comparatively chaste hours with her on an uncomfortable chaise lounge, and yet, what he had done with her had been as exciting as having sex with another woman and, in some ways, more satisfying.

She walked beside him down the terrace steps, her hands clasped behind her back, sandals dangling from her fingers. Her head was bent as if she was lost in thought, and Noah began to reconsider the last hours through her eyes… In actuality, he'd behaved like an oversexed, overeager, inexperienced sixteen-year-old necking and petting in the backyard without sense enough or courtesy enough to take her somewhere where they'd have privacy and comfort. He was embarrassed about his behavior; he was embarrassed because he had something to be embarrassed about…

As they neared a stand of palm trees at the rear of the lawn, Noah said flatly, "I'm sorry about all that. I shouldn't have let it go on so long or get so far. I practically molested you on a damned lawn chair."

Sloan's heart soared at the discovery she wasn't the only one feeling uncertain and embarrassed. "A lawn chair?" she repeated thoughtfully; then she raised laughing eyes to his. "Molested? Is that what you were doing?"

Stifling a shout of laughter, Noah pulled her into his arms.

She looked at him teasingly, and rested her hands on his chest "My memory must be hazy, but—"

"I wouldn't want your memory to be hazy," Noah whispered, already bending his head. "I did this—" He brushed a kiss against her temple. "And this—" He trailed his lips to her ear and kissed it, smiling to himself when she shivered and pressed closer to him. "And I did this…" Her eyes closed and he put a light kiss on each lid before he dragged his mouth across her cheek to her lips. "And this—" He parted her lips with his and kissed her with a melting hunger, slowly exploring her mouth with his tongue, drawing her tighter to his hardening body, but when she leaned into him and began kissing him back, Noah lost his head for the second time that night. He backed her against a tree, caught her hands in both of his, and pinned them near her head while he deepened the kiss and pressed himself against her.

His tongue ravaged her mouth, his body moved slowly against hers, and her breasts swelled invitingly against his chest. He loosened his grip on one of her hands and slid his palm down her soft skin at her throat to her breast, brushing it with his knuckles and then covering it possessively. Her free hand curved round his nape, her body arched to his, and he fumbled with the jeweled clip at her nape that held the bodice of her dress up. A split second before he released it, he realized what he was doing and managed to check the impulse.

Struggling for control, he tore his mouth from hers and stared down at her moonlit face. "This is insanity," he whispered hoarsely; then he slowly lowered his head and buried his lips in hers again.

28

"Late night?" Paris asked cheerfully, perching on the side of Sloan's bed, already dressed for the day.

Sloan rolled over onto her back. "Very late," she said with a sleepy smile, thinking of Noah. "What time is it?"

"Ten-thirty."

"That late!"

Paris nodded. "It's lucky I remembered to tell Dishler not to turn on the security system when he went to bed. Otherwise, you'd have tripped the alarm when you walked past the infrared beams at the edge of the yard by the beach."